Ribbons
by Blablover5
Summary: The Inquisition is invited to celebrate Orlais' version of Valentine's Day, but Cullen is in no mood. Not until he and the Inquisitor slip off to have their own private party. I wanted to release this on Valentine's Day, but time slipped away. So enjoy some later February Cullen smut.


A flutter of red satin skirted across my vision. I turned, watching three girls scamper after a man festooned in a mass of curling ribbons. Most were red, but I noticed a few yellow knotted around his wrists and thighs. The Orlesians were in bright form, nearly all skipping and cavorting regardless of their age. While the masks remained tightly knotted to their faces, the clothing was not. Skirts were hiked high, straps pulled low, shirts fully abandoned. I hadn't seen so many flailing body parts since Sera threw that hive of hornets into the bathhouse.

Spring's revitalizing sun beamed down across the trampled meadow. Tents of the finest silks encircled the grounds. They barely shuddered in the gentle winds, their banners for the tempting offers inside fluttering to catch excited eyes. Everyone was in a jolly mood to celebrate the holiday.

Everyone except for one gruff lion.

I turned from watching Dorian accept his tenth red ribbon, and Varric shaking off another's advances with his stein, to watch the lone storm cloud stomp through the festivities. While everyone else was in thin shifts, frilled skirts, and — for some — just their underthings, he kept every stitch of armor on. Even the fur, which had to be the cause of the fever rising across his forehead.

Rising from my chair, I snaked a hand out to catch the man before he made yet another round of 'ruining everyone's fun.' Amber eyes that'd languidly scoured the scampering denizens snapped to me. When I smiled and curled a wave, Cullen's pursed lips finally relaxed.

"You look as if you're preparing for war," I said, my eyes drifting down to the sword naturally upon his hip.

The Rutherford sigh I'd heard mimicked across the barracks erupted from his lips. "This is foolish."

"Of course it is," I said extending my hand to the mass of adults chasing each other like nymphs and satyrs. "It's love."

Cullen snorted, his sneer cocked as he too scrutinized the scampering. "That is not love. It's people who proclaim themselves to be the epitome of civilized running around like animals for a few days until they sober up."

A laugh broke through my lips which I failed to stifle. My poor, disconcerted general spun upon me, his eyes narrowing as if I turned traitor. Ignoring the cries for more wine, women, and music, I slid so my hip knocked into Cullen's. Enveloping my arm over top of his, I staggered up on my tiptoes. The thick bear fur tickled through the thin fabric of my dress, nearly causing me to giggle in his ear.

But I soldiered on, swallowing the laugh, and whispered instead, "Last I checked, behaving like a rutting animal in heat is love."

"That is lust, not…" Cullen began, as if he was a die-hard romantic who had to defend the concept to the death. His rant fizzled as he turned his scruffy cheek and those amber flame eyes stared into mine. No doubt he realized my breasts were astride his bicep, my loins pressing to the side of his hip, and my lips a breath away. A hand circled my waist, pinning me to him.

"Not what?" I asked, struggling to maintain my balance on the near tips of my toes. Maker's sake, why was he so tall?

"Not…not, um…" Amber eyes darted from mine to my lips, then further to the warm chasm in my bodice. His tongue rolled over his lips, when he dry swallowed and the professional mask slammed down. "Not a productive use of our time."

"Come now, _Commander_," I leaned into his title even as I felt his fingers thrumming the top of my ass. "Everyone needs a break. Besides, we were invited."

"By feckless Orlesians who manage to turn the simplest of matters into a convoluted mess," he grumbled, showing his teeth. I glanced down his body to find that he bore no ribbons. Not even a small yellow one knotted to his wrist. Either he was very fast at escaping, or any who approached he glared to death.

"How else does one celebrate Ysolt and Durstan?"

A romantic tale from before the chantry itself. Durstan and Ysolt were two doomed lovers, separated by a great storm that shipwrecked Ystolt upon an island. There was no wood for her to build a new one to return to her beloved, but she found weeds and vines. With them she'd weave a rope long enough to cross the sea to Durstan. But the weeds were thick with thorns that pierced her fingers with each braid. By the time she set out, the vines were stained red with her blood. Drained by both the swim across the ocean and her blood spilling out behind her, she reached Durstan near death. They shared a last kiss before Ysolt died at his feet.

It was an incredibly popular poem for courts as well as an excuse to dress in your lightest clothing and chase each other around. Ribbons were knotted to those you wanted, red for true love, yellow for a bit of fun. Most used red regardless of how they'd feel come the morrow, but it was the spirit of the thing that swept all up.

All except for my dour Commander who couldn't stop sneering at the holiday. His free hand drifted to the hilt of his sword, but the other — that remained pinned to my buttocks. "We celebrate with small gifts, a flower, or cake. This is…barbaric," Cullen growled.

"Really? All of Ferelden?" I scoffed. Ostwick didn't engage in quite the same level of pomp as the Orlesian court but we certainly didn't limit it to tossing a single daisy at someone.

"Yes," Cullen insisted, but at my discerning eye, he balked. "Most I know."

At that moment a mass of his Ferelden soldiers drunkenly stumbled by. All were in their underwear, and all were covered in ribbons. I turned to the man who could kill any party dead. "Most?"

His feathers ruffled, Cullen shaking those stout shoulders as if he could pretend he didn't notice them. "It's foolish, stupid…" he kept on, his words trailing off as his eyes swept over me. "A pointless farce."

I knew he'd kept himself aloof of attachments, and that the templars would probably not go in for this level of drunken buffoonery. But surely even Cullen was young once. That heady sixteen when you blush if the winds shift and your heart races at the thought of tying a ribbon around your crush. Yet, the way he glared like a city dweller watching dragon's mate I began to wonder. Had no one ever chased him down? None ever pinned their affections upon his body?

That couldn't be right.

Warm breath caressed my ear as he whispered, "You're not exactly wearing any ribbons either."

"I'm the Inquisitor," I said, my head rising high. Cocking an eye, I caught Cullen's. "How many do you think are worthy of my attention?"

A gulp rattled in his Adam's apple, Cullen's body shrinking away from mine, when I cupped my fingers to his bum and gave a good pinch. Laughter replaced his worry in an instant, Cullen scooping his forehead over mine. The braying of the Orlesians faded like cricket song as we folded together.

"I feared I might have scared them off," he breathed.

"Oh, you have done a bang-up job terrifying most. I think I saw two men leap into the horse trough to escape you."

He winced at that, which caused me to as well. Weary eyes drifted away from mine, "I don't want to ruin your fun, to…"

I caught his wandering cheek and aimed his sight at me. "Cullen, you don't. I dare say it's not much fun until you're in the mix."

A grateful cough broke from his throat, as if he had to expel all his worries. Smiling painfully, he nodded his head against mine. "Good." At the sound of a gong breaking through the air, we slid apart. The obligatory wheelbarrow races were underfoot, everyone trying to find a partner to hoist up or hold them. I caught Bull insisting Krem could hold both of his legs, but the poor man strained at the thought and waved Dalish over to help.

When the second bang went off, so too did the racers. Ribbons flopped back and forth, getting into faces and causing almost instant collisions. Everyone was laughing, not caring if they wound up in the mud.

"Incidentally," I said, my eyes upon the race. "I'm not certain if you heard, but they were kind enough to give the Inquisitor her own private tent."

Cullen perked up, a half smile tugging on his scar. "Did they now?"

"Though," I turned to the man finally beaming with interest, "I have yet to see it in person. I was waiting for the proper time." Curling my hands into his, I wafted my fingertips over his palms and slowly up his forearms. It kept pulling Cullen tighter and tighter to my body.

"Damn it, Krem! Lift with your legs!"

"Now's perfect," Cullen said.

We took one last look over the revelry, but everyone else was too besotted to pay any attention to the Inquisitor and her Commander slipping into a bungalow. That was what they sold it as, Josephine talking it up as if I'd find a gilded cabin mixed in with the Orlesian fields. Seeing as how most of my time traveling was spent in leaking tents or under the stars, I was content with a roof.

A sign marked Inquisitor dangled over the top, warning all whose this was. Round domes formed the ceiling, towering at least seven feet high so neither of us would have to stoop. Swirls of color rounded from the top of the main dome down the sides, reds and yellows to match the theme of the day. Flitting my finger through the slat, I took a breath and staggered inside.

Silk sheets of an opalescence shine glimmered upon a short mattress three feet off the ground. Attached to the bed itself were four posts, each hammered deep into the dirt. Flirty canopies dangled off them, the fabric so fine it was nearly translucent. I reached to finger the glimmering curtain when my toes skimmed over black fur.

A trio of fur rugs rested in a halo around the bed: wolf, mountain cat, and bear. It was the bear that I kept dragging my toes through, my eyes closed as I delighted in the course but lush comfort that felt so familiar.

"This is…not what I was expecting," Cullen spoke, his eyes wide as he stared around the fantastical bungalow.

Catching sight of a wine bottle perched upon a table, I picked up one of the flutes and twirled it in my fingers. "Orlesians, they never do anything by half measures."

"To put it mildly," he gulped, his eyes staring at the roof, then the bed. After canvassing the private quarters, they finally landed upon me. I braced myself for a shake of his head, but the smirk rose along with his scar and the internal lion roared in his eyes.

"No one here," Cullen said, his long stride quickly crossing to me. A hand scooped along my back, tucking me to his body. Laughing, I tried to put the flute down, but he pulled me so quickly into his embrace it was trapped between us.

"No one else allowed," I said, glancing from his candle lit eyes down to the tip of his tongue trailing his scar.

"No one looking for us," he rumbled, his gloved palm folding around my cheek. The fingers skimmed like rain's kiss over my skin until nestling to the nape of my neck. Once there, he hoisted me on my tiptoes, the pair of us meeting eye to eye.

A gasp escaped at how certain he was, how he seemed to have shaken off the foolish aspects of the holiday in an instant. Running my fingers along his surcoat, the crimson fabric wadding in my fist as I pulled myself ever tighter to him, I opened my mouth. My chin planted atop his, the tip of my nose skimming over his. I breathed heat into his parted lips, Cullen's eyes closing tight as his hands roamed around my backside.

In my sultry voice, I purred, "Not for hours."

Amber burned into my sight, Cullen launching forward. His lips plunged to mine before I could even finish my sentence. The hands that'd been chastely massaging my back rounded over the thin shift clinging to my ass. He scooped his palms around both cheeks, the fingers kneading deeper into my crack as he kept hoisting me higher and higher.

Wrapping a hand around his shoulders, my tongue found his first. It tapped against his slumbering hunger, daring it to come out and play. The hands pinched my ass, Cullen up for the challenge. As he twirled his tongue over mine, then rolled my bottom lip to his mouth, I felt my feet leave the ground. Wiggling my toes, I skimmed them over the bear fur, waiting to be hauled to the bed or elsewhere.

But a groan erupted from Cullen and the fingers cupping my ass faded and I slithered to the ground. When I returned to my shorter stature, he bent with, our foreheads skimming as he took a cleansing breath. Cullen placed a few sweeter pecks to my lips as his palms scooped around to my hips. He'd been so embroiled in kissing me he didn't even realize he plucked me off my feet.

That summed up our relationship, honestly.

Skimming my palm over his cheek, watching the flush burn over his face as he pulled in a breath, I kissed him on the forehead. "Before I take flight again," I said, causing him to wince, "I best put this down." Turning to the table, I returned the empty flute. Maker knew we didn't need any liquid courage to grease the wheels.

I had every intention to drive that man to the empty bed, but my eyes caught a basket laid out for the Inquisitor. Andraste help me, but my curiosity won out. Spinning on my heels, I pulled off the small towel to dig inside. Cullen curled around behind me, both arms wrapping around my stomach as his chin dug into my shoulder.

"What's in there?" he asked, watching as I laid each curiouser and curiouser object out.

"This looks like a jar of oil," I said while placing down a brown glass bottle filled with a slow-moving liquid. "There's a pack of ribbons." All red. When I placed them on the table, Cullen snorted. "And this…"

From the mystery basket I pulled out a ten inch long thin cylinder. It was maybe an inch wide, with an inward curve at the top. Ivory hued, it was polished to a sheer shine. When twisting it around, I recognized the pattern — it was made from dragon bone, but its inclusion made little sense. Confounded, I hefted the tiny rolling pin in my hands.

"Ah," Cullen, the man who'd been as chaste as a Brother for the past decade, plucked it from my fingers. "I know what this is."

"What? You do?" I gasped, rotating to watch as he slicked his fingers up and down the shaft.

"It's for…" He curled a hand from my hip over my ass until his fingers dipped into the crack and glanced for a moment over the anus. "There."

A shudder twisted up my spine as I watched him play with the tool. "How do you know that?" I sputtered. "Have you been holding out on me, Rutherford?"

Cullen shrugged, his eyes drifting from the ivory toy to the ground as he placed it back on the table. "Sometimes templars have…a lot of time on their hands."

"And they fill their hands with other things," I finished, snickering. But even as I laughed, my imagination rampaged with images of him wrapping his hand around his cock as he tried playing with his back entrance. _Maker's breath!_ My face lit hot at the idea, a hand raising to try and fan off the blush, as my eyes darted to the bottle of oil and kindly provided toy.

Picking it up in my fingers, I eyed the polished bone as I would check the edge of a sword. "Do you like it?" I asked, turning from the unassuming toy to my blushing Commander.

He was trying to wring the back of his neck off, his eyes burning through the roof of the tent. "I…I wouldn't say…that is to mean…"

"Cullen," I grabbed his hand before he drew blood, pulling his eyes to me. As they caught, a smile lifted on my lips. Bouncing the toy between us, I asked, "Do you really like it?"

Sighing from the bottom of his soul, he confessed, "Yes."

Dashing forward, I kissed him hard. He struggled to rebound, my force pushing him backward while my hands ripped at his armor. Those wily fingers knew all the tricks, tugging off gloves, bracers, breastplates, pauldrons. Each piece struck the bearskin rug and when his skin was revealed, I'd rake my nails over it. Prayers would erupt into my mouth, Cullen gulping from my scratching until he was in naught but his trousers.

Round that point, he finally struck the bed. It was his calves that had to fend off the blow, but with nowhere else to turn, he sank to the mattress. I broke off my voracious lips and paused before him. Amber eyes stared at me, his hands left to cling to his knees.

Sunlight cut through the colored fabric, shifting his sandy blond locks strawberry. It also highlighted the scars across his strong chest, igniting the old flesh to a fresh and painful red. I ached to kiss the pains away, but instead I focused on the muscles and that one vein on both biceps that he had to keep covered or I'd turn into a wobbly mess. It'd make war room meetings rather awkward.

After taking another lap of his anticipating body, I caught his eyes. Amber stared at first in hunger, then confusion. Licking my lips, I grabbed the hem of my dress and hurled it clean off my body. Standing in only a thin pair of smalls and nothing else, I placed my hand to my hip and let Cullen drink me in.

Like a man fresh off wandering the wastes, his eyes peeled over every inch of me. I watched his fingers flex against his thighs when he landed upon my breasts, both bounding freely with my breathing. They seemed to want to touch me, badly. To cup my abundant flesh and twirl my nipples.

His trousers tented up as his mind no doubt filled with the scent, taste, and touch of me. The bulge rose higher, not caring for any buttons in the way. Flexing my thighs, I clenched inward at the sight of his erection straining for attention. Oh how I wanted to have him hurl me onto my back and pound away.

But…

Turning behind, I glanced at the mystery toy sitting on the table.

I leaned over to snatch something off the table, stuffing it in my fist as I finally reached for Cullen. His palm swept over my waist, quickly rising for the right breast as I leaned over.

"Blessed Andraste," I gasped, those wily fingers coaxing my nipples to an ache. I tried to kiss him, but he kept causing moans to erupt from my body. Instead, I had to settle for rolling my forehead over his, my free hand worrying up and down his clothed thigh.

"Cullen," I sputtered. Dragging my fingers from the crook of his elbow upward, I wrapped my palm around his wrist. The dance across my breast paused, not because I didn't want it to last forever, but because he deserved more.

Worried eyes swung up to me, slowly blinking as I pulled what I wanted from my fist and began to work on his wrist. When I let go, Cullen's hand tumbled back, and a red ribbon cascaded off his forearm. He stared at the mark of the holiday, shaking his arm so the ribbon serpentined.

"Do you accept it?" I asked, "My declaration of love."

A snort rolled through his nose, but he bowed his head and in a soft voice answered, "Yes."

"Good." Working quickly, I knotted another around his other wrist. All the while, he kissed me, his hands returning to ignite my breasts. The ribbon twirled against my skin as he did so, my loins wetting with each touch. Maker, the highs his touch could cause, sometimes requiring only a finger or two to get me singing.

But I had other plans.

Cullen's wandering tongue and kisses coating my throat, paused. As I leaned to the other side, releasing the ribbon, he moved his left arm to cup me…and found it trapped. Wild eyes darted to the bedpost where I strung him up with red ribbons. They bound his wrist in a scandalous crisscross, keeping the dear Commander tied in place.

A scoff shot out first, his eyes rolling as if it was a laugh. But I shook my head and got to tying the other arm up. "You can't be…this is…you really don't have to…" he babbled even as his eyes burned into my determined knotting. Those few years on ships when I was younger served me well. No chance he could slip those ties.

With my strapping commander caught in the silken web, his shoulders straining, the biceps flexing taut, I kissed him sweetly. When I curled my palm down his naked back, I felt a tremble rumbling up through the center of his being.

"Are you…?" I asked, my eyes watching as his lids fluttered.

It took a breath before he realized I asked him a question, his eyes flying open to stare at me. "Yes! Maker's sake, I…!" The enthusiastic shout faded to a whisper as he purred in my ear, "I trust you."

Grabbing his trousers, I yanked free the belt and tugged them clear down his hips. The force startled him, Cullen flexing his tied up hands on instinct. We both turned to a creak from the post, but it didn't crack in half.

Fully naked and properly trussed up, I stood above and gazed down at the man seated upon the bed. He tried to lean forward, his lips pressing for my belly, but I crossed my arms and ordered, "To your knees."

"Pardon?" The amber eyes fluttered in shock, even as he shifted his right leg inward to obey.

Cupping my hands to his shoulders, I padded my palms over the tight muscles, "I said…" Slowly, I helped push him towards the bear fur. The ribbons slid along the post, keeping his arms wide open. "To your knees."

As he landed, his thigh muscles flexing to hold his body, Cullen pulled in an assuring breath. The pose of an eagle in flight that I trapped him in emphasized every tight muscle from his abs, to his pecs, and across those arms. But it was the rising cock that drew my attention.

At my orders, it pulsed, enlarging and swiping through the air. He was in a vulnerable position, his most tender areas on display as he rested upon his knees. But he'd never looked more powerful to me. How I wanted to sit on that exposed lap and ride on his cock until the posts shattered.

Cullen opened his palms to convey the shrug he couldn't give. "Well…?"

Putting away my fantasies, even as the apex of my thighs slicked with wetness, I turned to the table. The amber bottle drew my attention first, both fingers digging into the concoction. It smelled of a pressed garden with a hint of lavender drifting through the oil. Dipping my whole hand in, I lubed up my palm, the oil dribbling down my forearm. The whole time Cullen watched with such intensity I feared I might burst into flames.

It had to be killing him knowing I was just beyond his reach and he could do nothing to assist. Forcing him to be tended to for once instead of the other way around.

Hefting up the ivory toy, I wrapped my slippery hand around. With a raised eyebrow, and cocked hip, I stared directly into Cullen's eyes while lubing it up. A moan whiffled from his lips, his legs shifting wider apart as he watched me prepare. Every sensuous circle of my palm drew his eyes, his biceps flexing as he wrapped both hands around the ribbons. Digging tighter to his restraints, he pulled with every stretch to try and lean closer.

With slippery dragon bone in one hand, and the bottle of lube in the other, I dropped to the bear rug on my knees. Amber flames burned in my eyes, his tongue darting around his lips as he shifted impatiently in place. The coarse fur swept up my knees, cushioning them as I scooted closer. My free hand swept over Cullen's scruffy jaw, tugging his lips to mine.

Igniting the kiss, I let his tongue overpower mine; the tied up, vulnerable man trying to take command. Meanwhile, my other hand curled over the dangling jewels on display. As I gently rolled them in my palm, Cullen gasped into my mouth. That hungry cock thrusted forward, glancing off my belly, but I wouldn't envelop it. Not yet.

Slowly, I swept my finger back off the balls towards the quivering ass. While touching his taint drew a gasp, when the tip of my finger rounded about his pucker, Cullen's jaw dropped. His head lifted heavenward as a smile shined from his closed eyes to his tightening lips.

A chuckle rumbled in my gut, and I whispered in his ear, "You do like this."

"Well, it…" Whatever excuse he had snapped away as I lined the tip of the toy against his skin, ready to pierce deep. The bulbous end suckered in, Cullen gasping and tugging on his bonds.

I held my hand in place, not even an inch of the toy inside, while my fingers stroked across his trembling buttocks. "Deeper," the man at my mercy sputtered.

"Are you sure?" Sweat percolated on his brow, his chest and arms straining as if he was about to implode.

But the lion smirked, his amber eyes winking as he said, "I can take it."

"Oh," I whispered. Rising on my haunches, I grabbed his chin and pointed those lips right at mine. "I know you can." With that, I shoved the toy deep inside. Cullen's lips slipped prayers when not gasping as he wiggled his backside to fit the dragon bone perfectly inside.

Locking my fingers tight to the end, lest it try to slip away from me, I watched that stoic, always-armored, closed-off man unfold. Every mask he wore, every knot he tied himself into, every fear of being judged unworthy evaporated as he tipped his grateful face to the ceiling. It was intoxicating, my thighs clenching to find a man brought so quick to the brink from my own ministrations.

Aching for more, to watch him come undone in such a state, I tugged the toy out. Not completely, but Cullen stared in surprise at the loss pressing deep inside of him — until I thrust it back in.

"Sweet Andraste!" he gasped.

Pleased with the reaction, I began to pick up steam, all while my free fingers swirled over his chest. Cullen matched the rhythm, his quivering thighs rising and falling opposite of me so he could bore himself out.

"Mer-mer-merciful…" His voice trailed off to muttering, too many moans racing to escape. As he bared down upon the pleasure toy, I savored in the bounce of his cock upon my skin. It glided up and down my belly, finding refuge in the small pucker from slouching. Would he come upon me so that it pooled into my belly button? Could I undo him that well?

Another crack at the posts caused me to whip my head over, but I didn't give up the rhythm for a second. He strained so hard against his tether I spotted not one but two veins prodding over his biceps. The rate this was going either Cullen would explode or the bed would.

He mewled in his throat, his eyes screwed tight. His thrusting didn't slow, but he seemed to be fighting against the plateau. Well, I knew one way to help. Circling my palm down his glistening chest, the dark blond hair parting from my fingers, I reached that pulsing cock and wrapped my hand around. I gave a tug upward, and Cullen groaned from the bottom of his balls.

"Wait!" he suddenly shouted, both my hands freezing in place. Wild eyes of a feral jungle cat stared at me. They blinked a few more times before the man emerged from barbaric depths. Cullen shook his head to clear the sweat away.

"Are you…?" Enjoying this. I gulped.

"Yes. Maker's breath, yes. But I…" His hooded eyes drifted to the cock resting in my grip. They snapped up to mine, and in a low voice he growled, "I want something else."

Nodding, I whispered, "Okay," and tugged free the toy. As it thudded to the ground, my skin prickling with a taste of failure, I swept my eyes across his body. The pain vanished from my mind as I drank in the man strung up by ribbons. His famished cock pierced the air as he flexed his muscles, trying to use willpower alone to calm the rush of blood. When he glanced over my naked body, those eyes scooping across my chest, the cock gave one more request for attention.

"Oh, I should…" I rose up on my haunches, reaching for the ribbons to untie him, when Cullen whipped his left hand hard. The satin snapped with a crack, freeing him and leaving only a tattered end of red dangling off his wrist. He did the same to the other, only pausing to rub the rising redness from his escape while my jaw tumbled to the floor.

"Holy…shit that was hot," I cried, dashing forward to scoop my hands around his stalwart body. He kissed me harder and hotter than watching him rip free of his bonds. As his hands swept over my waist, I delighted in the tickle of the shredded tears of the ribbons. They danced with his palms scooping under my breasts, Cullen tugging one up to guide to his mouth.

Kisses pressed to the pillowed flesh molding in his palm, then gentle nips. My entire lower half quivered in anticipation. When he reached my nipple, I want to scream and laugh at the same time. Every spark of pleasure shot straight down to my loins, which demanded his stroking, loving hands. Now.

"What?" I gulped, my fingers rustling through his hair. He rose from thrumming his tongue over my right nipple, but his fingers found their way there. "What did you want?" my voice spat in staccato, breath failing to find its way to my lungs.

A smirk lifted that scar and amber eyes flirted with me. "Do you trust me?"

I snorted, my body buzzing so powerfully my toes fell numb. Cullen rose to his feet, far steadier than I could manage, and walked to the table. Watching the naked man, his asscheeks glistening from the oil that I put there, an honesty tumbled from my heart. "With everything."

Turning, he yanked the remaining ribbons so taut they snapped. I jumped in surprise, but my eyes turned wild at the thought of whatever he had planned. The pile of red silk slipped from his one palm, which he curled to my cheek to rustle through my hair. I savored in the gentle touch, but my attention was upon the ribbons bounding against his taut thigh.

Cullen took a knee, his lips parting mine. The heat trembled across my tongue as he took control of not only the kiss but my body. Like skimming the surface of a still pond, he drew two fingers from my naked shoulder down the interior of my arm. Goosebumps trailed his tender touch, my hand hanging in the ether as it waited for what he wanted.

Silk slithered across my thin wrist, the knot loose until he pushed it tight to my skin. I stared up into his eyes, the flame lit hot as he said, "My turn."

With a smile, I extended out my other arm to be bound, but Cullen shook his head. Gently, he tugged the ribboned wrist backwards, Cullen walking behind me. "Blessed Maker," he moaned. A palm caressed from the top of my back in soothing circles down my spine. I arched towards it, licking my lips as his wide hand landed flush upon the curve of my back, the fingers fluttering against my asscheek.

Still he held my bound arm extended backward as if I was reaching behind myself. Brushing my fallen hair back with his chin, he whispered in my ear, heat tingling clear down to my soaking-wet smalls, "Do you accept my affections?"

"With all my heart," I admitted. Cheesy, but it was the truth.

The prowling lion paused, his eyes filling with an reachable thought. Bounding in the light, my head craned as far as it could to see, the amber fire softened to a sweet tan. Placing a kiss as soft as a feather's touch to my lips, Cullen knotted up my other wrist as I had to him.

I expected to be pulled to the posts, but the freed hands swerved over my breasts. They bounced to his command, our lips struggling to meet to form a kiss, as he kept pulling my body back onto him. I delighted in the proud cock gliding between my asscheeks, his mouth moaning as my body tempted his. Sliding down from my breasts, over my stomach, Cullen picked at the knots on the hips of my smalls.

"Ribbons?" he murmured in my ear, finger and thumb fluttering with the tie to my underthings before slowly plucking it free. A cool breeze wafted over my soaking loins as the smalls tumbled free.

"I thought them…" I began to explain, when Cullen drew his thumb over my clit and plunged two fingers deep inside.

Gasping, first in surprise, then from the heat ramping up over my simmering body, I crashed against his chest. He held me upright, one hand clamped under my breasts, as he breathed in my ear, "I love it."

Sweet Maker! I swiveled to match his finger play, the rhythm steady but lively. Each certain touch to my clit brought me closer and closer to perfection. Just a few more and…

His fingers slipped from me, digging into my thigh with my own wetness. Confused, I turned my head to catch his eye, then began to shift my whole body.

"Wait," Cullen commanded, hands grabbing to my hips. He kept me facing forward as he slowly drew his hands back to my wrists. The cock left my buttocks, the chest my arching spine, and all I could do was stare at the empty bed as he tugged on my arms.

"What are you…?" I started, when I felt both my hands tied together. Instinctively, I stretched my shoulders, delighting in the tug. I thought that had to be it, until a hand landed flush to my stomach and tipped me slightly backward.

A soft ribbon twisted about my ankle, then the other, Cullen quickly securing my knotted hands to my feet. I tried to pull out of my 45˚ angle, but I was tied up tight, the ribbons constricting around my ankles and wrists. Trussed up like a holiday bird, all I could do was look up at the naked man pacing around me. I gave a little rock on my straddling legs, my bonds always pulling me back to the starting place. Where he wanted me.

"Is this when you try to get me to talk?" I laughed, turning to watch as Cullen sat before me.

Cupping his hand to the back of my head, he pulled me up so high, I balanced upon the edge of my knees. Our eyes burned across the narrow distance, my entire being resting in the palm of his hand. "No," he growled, his lips plunging to mine. The second hand landed upon my thighs, fingers skipping over the spread muscles to dive back into my nethers.

Curses spat into the air, every muscle in my body straining as I leaned tighter and tighter to the man's pleasureful hand. "This," Cullen breathed in my ear, his hot tongue darting over the lobe, "is when I get you to shout."

Both hands grabbed onto my hips, my body teetering backward without him holding me. An eep rolled on my tongue at the fear of falling on my nose, when I felt a knee dig into my thigh. A different gulp bobbed in my throat as Cullen locked his grip tight to my back and spread my legs as wide as they could reach.

Guiding with only his hips, he drew his cock down across my teetering belly to the sopping lips below. As it slipped and slid, Cullen's forehead crashed to mine, his mouth begging for mercy. I strained at my bonds, aching to grab that wayward member and thrust it where it belonged. But the anticipation, the inability to do naught by wait, was driving me to the edge.

Ribbons tugged tighter to my wrists, my toes digging into the fur as Cullen balanced me upon his one palm. Even with my breasts nearly eclipsing the view, I watched as he gripped himself. Sure handed, tight without strangling, certain but careful. He held himself the same way he'd brandish his sword.

Maker save me, but I wanted to scream. To feel those hands over every inch of my body. To have him hold me up as he worked himself off. To thrust so deep inside me I'd wake the next morning orgasming.

Slicking his hand once more over his cock, the shaft glistening from the same lavender oil, he rested it right at my entrance. The tip surged, spreading my aroused lips as if having to prepare for what was to come. Grabbing onto my hips, Cullen hefted me up and thrusted once. It was shallow, his knees and my thighs blocking most of the path, but Andraste it was good.

"You have no idea," he growled, shaking his sweat-drenched hair as if it were a mane. Another thrust bore me out deeper. Maker, I needed him, all of him. Wrapping my hands around the ribbons, I pulled the tether up, bringing my legs with.

Cullen's thrusts picked up speed, his hips swerving to enrapture every inch inside of me. "No idea," he muttered, inching ever closer to me across the bear-skin rug. Fingers digging into my spine, he suddenly lifted his knee out from between my thighs. Before I could move, he rammed his thigh against mine, pulling my legs closed tighter.

Pulling me tighter.

"Blessed Maker," Cullen gulped, his thrusts inching deeper, his body pulling closer to mine. My entire core lit up like an inferno. I strained my head back, shaking my hair while guzzling in air to keep going. To keep clinging to this moment forever.

Suddenly, a hand wrapped around the nape of my neck. Cullen pulled me directly to his face. Eye to eye, breath against breath, hips grinding to hips. Our foreheads crested against one another, both of us grunting to the sounds of the other's pleasure. It was beautiful. It was perfect.

One more thrust shattered my control. An incoherent cry of joy blasted from my lips into his face as I succumbed to the orgasm's trembling bliss. Cullen smiled wide at my undoing, his fingers fanning out over the back of my head. He wouldn't let me look away. Wouldn't let me miss how he stared deep into my eyes.

Bounding everything of him against everything of me, Cullen cried out, "You. Have. No. Idea." His hand flung from my head so both would grab my hips. Positioning me higher and higher above his pelvis, he gave one last glorious thrust.

"Maker's breath!" he cried, his body depleted as he crumbled into his orgasm. That delectable cock kept pulsing within and I gripped back to it as best I could.

Instead of the wild eyes of the hunter, it was the tender gaze of a scholar that turned to me. Cupping my cheek, his thumb brushing over my lips, Cullen whispered as if to himself, "You have no idea what I'd do for you."

"It's not such a stupid holiday, after all," I said.

"Ha," he laughed once, but under the sarcasm was a trace of sincerity. I meant the ribbons I placed on his body. And I'd have tied more if I'd had time.

Extricating himself from me, Cullen glanced down at his glistening cock. One hand tried to wipe away the sticky mess, while he sighed. "Very well, it's…it has its advantages."

I ached to wrap myself around his body, to kiss his lips and lay against his chest. Hear the thrum of his heart against my ear. But I was still stubbornly knotted up in ribbons, and I doubted I could snap them as easily as he did.

"Would you mind…?" I began, jerking my head back, when a shadow passed over the door.

There'd been the occasional dark form, usually from people running across the field, but this one lingered. And spoke. "Inquisitor?"

Shit, it was Josephine.

"Are you available for the relay?"

My eyes swung to Cullen, both of us frazzled beyond belief, smelling of sex, and smiling like slap-happy drunks. I could probably talk her into giving us a few minutes to clean up and…

"No," Cullen spoke assuredly, his lips sliding in the direction of the door while his eyes remained on me, "I'm afraid she'd tied up at the moment."

_Maker._

"Ah," Josephine's voice shifted to an embarrassing understanding. "I will ask Leliana then. And will speak to you both later."

We held our breaths until Josephine's scampering form vanished. "You're awful," I sighed, shaking my head and tugging on the bonds.

Cullen's cocked eyebrow caused me to sit up higher. "It's true, you are tied up."

"And you could have cut me out of these bonds," I said back.

Digging a knuckle into the fur, Cullen walked slowly towards me. Fire flickered in his amber eyes, a rumble rolling in his throat as he deliberately gazed at my immobilized body. "What if I don't want to?" he asked and dipped his head down to place a kiss right between my breasts. His hands slid back, undoing the tension that kept my wrists bound to my ankles, but the pair remained locked tight to each other.

Able to sit up, I leaned against him, my chest gliding over his. The tail end of his cum sputtered between us, some of it dripping into my belly button. "Depends on what you had in mind," I said.

Tracing a finger from my ankle up my calf, Cullen's eyes burned into mine. When he reached the swell of my buttock, he asked, "Do you trust me?"

"Always."


End file.
